


Girls

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-12
Updated: 2004-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz gets Willow.  Devon gets everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This could take place any time after "Phases," and before "Lover's Walk." Title and headings adapted from Liz Phair's "Girls! Girls! Girls!"

_i. I take full advantage_

There's half an hour or so, before the others arrive for practice, when Devon and Oz kick back, relax, and talk. About family, about not going to classes, about girls.

Well, Devon talks about girls. Oz talks about Willow. It's a deal they worked out years ago, when they first kicked around the idea of a band, watching _Seinfeld_ reruns. Oz finds the perfect girl. Devon gets to sort through the rest.

It's kind of a stupid plan, but Devon's never complained, and at least half of the girls he's dated so far haven't either. Not that there's been scores--half the time they've been standing-at-the-edge-of-the-stage sort of dates--but there's been enough.

Devon is lead singer, after all. It's part of the job description.

_ii. every man I meet_

"We missed you at the gig last weekend."

"Yeah," and Oz is hazy behind the smoke. "Sorry."

"It's just not the same with Eric, man." Devon snatches the joint from Oz's hand with a lazy smile, slow and easy. "He can't play like you."

"Nobody plays like me," Oz laughs. "Some people are good."

"Don't say shit like that, Oz." Devon takes a drag, sees spirals in his breath. "You're the _sound_."

"I'm the bass," Oz says, librarian-toned. "You're the voice, and there's also Kevin, and Barry."

"No, man." Devon waves his hand around, illustrating the point. "It's _you_. You are the Dingoes."

"So, then, what's the band when I'm not there?" Oz sounds amused, now, and Devon feels a little lost.

"It's...just a band."

Oz smiles at that. "Thanks, man." Ducks his head. "But you're wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"You're still there." Oz takes the joint back; Devon had forgotten he held it. "You're the Dingoes, too."

_iii. around enough to see_

It's been more than hour, now, and Devon's starting to think he told Kevin and Barry that rehearsal was tomorrow, or maybe Wednesday night.

It's happened before.

It's also possible that they've quit, he forgot to tell Oz, and now it's time to make Eric a full-time member, and see if that kid from homeroom, Jeremy, is interested in music. Devon's never been very good at organizing anything. That's why he has Oz.

Two people, however, does not a practice make, and Devon had hoped to get some serious jams done that night. Gigs pop up unexpectedly, especially when you're the only band in town.

Hopefully nothing comes up tonight, because Devon's never been much for acoustic.

For practice, though, it's okay, because he's there, and Oz is there, and they have a guitar and a bass, and half a notebook of possible lyrics, passed across the aisle during Western Civ.

It's the usual drill, even without the additional band members. Three songs on the burner, lamenting being alone, or never being alone, with chord progressions that they constantly aspire to, but never quite achieve. Then a run-through of stand-by songs, the ones that they can play in their sleep, simple and crowd-pleasing.

Just Devon's voice and Oz's bass, and between the two of them, it works.

_iv. I get away almost every day_

"Oz, man, I can't read these lines." He points to a peculiarly scrawled sentence, ink smeared across the blue lines in haste. "I cannot ev..."

"Which one?" Oz leans forward, his guitar pressing against Devon's arm. Hums as he squints at his notes. "I cannot...ever say it. I can't say it now."

Devon nods, picks up the next lines. "I know it's over before it began." Mimics Oz's melody, and adds his own embellishment.

"Yeah, that's it." Oz leans back, strums a new chord.

Devon echoes the key change, and frowns. "Sad song, man."

Oz nods, then changes keys again, goes minor. "Yeah."

"This," Devon licks his lips, "this isn't about your girlfriend, is it?"

"Not about her." Oz changes keys, changes keys, and sighs. "About everyone else."

"Oh." He doesn't really understand that, but he doesn't really understand Oz, either. "It's not about the Dingoes, is it?"

At that, Oz smiles. "No. Not about us at all."

"Okay, then." Devon grins back, and goes back to the song. "What's that line say?"

_v. what the girls call_

Practice is officially over, despite there still only being the two of them. Practice is an hour and a half, always, whether the band's all there or not.

There's an hour or so, after practice is done, when Devon and Oz kick back, decompress, and shoot the breeze. In times past, they wouldn't have to talk about much of anything, but nowadays, it's essential. They just don't have much time to hang, otherwise, what with Willow, and increasingly-important classes, and wherever the hell Oz disappears to every few weeks.

It's never anything big, just random shit like the newest kid in band, or the latest groupie Barry's encountered, or the fact that Devon still hasn't found a girl like Willow, and the fact that Devon doesn't want a girl like Willow.

Devon doesn't really want a girl, truth be told, but he's not sure what that means. Sometime, if they're alone enough, or if he's faded enough, he'll ask Oz what he thinks it means.

For now, it's enough to just hang, talk, and contemplate their inevitable record deal.

_vi. the girls call murder_

Devon's seen some very weird goings-down in the past couple of weeks, but he doesn't want to talk about it. More than once, he's seen some severe and fucked-up violence behind the Bronze, and he hasn't told Oz, because he's pretty sure Oz's girlfriend was involved somehow, and he's not sure if Oz knows.

He's pretty sure Oz has seen what he's seen, though, because the few times they've been together when running across said violence, Oz has hustled him past pretty quickly.

He doesn't want to think about what that means, or why Oz disappears every few weeks. He doesn't want to think there's a connection.

When under the influence and after rehearsal, however, everything's fair game, including possibly-hallucinated gang members on PCP, or whatever rumor calls them.

"Oz?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do you _go_?"

There's a pause, a drag, and a long, sweet exhalation. "Away."

Devon takes a breath, and decides to ask his next question. "Why?" He doesn't look at Oz.

"Full moon." A rueful sort of laugh. "It does stuff to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another pause, on Devon's part. "Huh." And then he grins. "You should tell that to girls, man. I bet they'd dig that."

"Yeah." Oz chuckles. "I bet they would."


End file.
